Logogriph Longing descends like a spirited mortal at low tide ascends a languorous watery apex at high pulse chthonic impulse of movement pushes the earth’s bottom to the surface lethargic ache full of ideas tsunami to gulp a mortal or two and their belongings resurrection renewal rebirth of tidal love
Behind the Scenes words that nobody utters: he is an orphan like any coloured vapour he dissipates into the tilted sky or lose himself in the world letter on a rattling goods train: smooth graze in man’s history lost vestige: is it truth or ample extension of imagination? crumbled face among worn-out decorations stranger: itching, with the litheness of death he searches for his own life and if he doesn’t find it as an orphan with parents alive he dresses himself with somebody else’s eternal is only the place in which we cannot hide everything that can be lived: is death did the clock needle stop? or is the world spinning with it?
Solitude Away from fishing grounds skipper-less floating hope in morning orange juice windless calm of small bay lights up with a red scarf still dreaming of adventure in high seas through Desolation Sound to upper coastal treasured pastures another destitute day arriving with paeans for past glory, none talk about today’s missed expedition as if there is another on its way
Manolis Aligizakis 